


come out of the garden, baby // you'll catch your death in the fog

by Velvet_Velour



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Demon Summoning, Gen, In Medias Res, M/M, Mild Language, Ocelot's crush on BB, already a demon. kaz, mentions of past BBKaz, playing with mgs canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 20:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15714924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvet_Velour/pseuds/Velvet_Velour
Summary: All magic has a price. Miller should know, Ocelot thought, glancing at what was left of Miller’s right arm.[mgs modern magic au]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was supposed to be one of the first chapters of a multi-chapter story. The basic idea is that it’s a modern AU with magic (think urban fantasy?) that’s loosely based on Mage the Awakening. I won’t write anything else based on this AU, just needed to be done with it and post this short piece. The second chapter is only a fanart.

 

“It's about Miller.”

Two pairs of eyes looked at Snake. Ocelot watched him carefully to see what sort of impact these words had on him. The mage’s familiar, a small shadow cat, observed Snake curiously, the tip of its long tail twitching. The creature was getting bored with their conversation.

Seeing the expression on Snake's face change Ocelot felt his cheek twitch. Mentioning Kazuhira Miller was a powerful spell, it seemed, if it changed John’s attitude from “get the hell away from me” to “I'm listening”. Ocelot could swear he heard his familiar laugh; not that a shadow cat would be able to do that in the first place.

“What about him?” Snake asked, disinterested. He should know Ocelot could read him like an open book. He spent two years trying to find him; two whole years during which Snake was involved with some mage named Miller. Everyone and their mothers talked about a certain incident that happened a mere three months ago. Snake and Miller were right in the middle of it.

Then once again Snake vanished. This time it was Miller who was cast aside. Snake was pretty damn good at disappearing as Ocelot discovered when they parted ways two years ago.

“With all that's been going on lately with, you know, hunters,” Ocelot gave Snake a look. “I've heard rumours about Miller. He's not even that good but for whatever reason the price for his head just doubled. He didn't make it to the Red List yet, but considering his sudden _popularity_ he most likely will.”

Much to Ocelot’s disappointment, John was as oblivious as ever, not interested in the fact there was a regular war going on. A war he could be partially blamed for starting.

“I knew he crossed the border hoping hunters won't get him on neutral ground. The truth is nobody will bat an eye if hunters kill a pariah like Miller.” Ocelot continued. He skipped certain details of this story. Such as wasting time on tracking Miller down to essentially use him as bait to lure Snake out of his hiding. "Things changed lately, just this week I felt his magic all the way back in Seattle."

Still no reaction. Snake merely stared. _You can be so dense sometimes._

The shadow cat yawned and curled into a ball next to Snake's boot.

“Let me make this clear, John. Miller's doing something big if I can feel the stench of his magic from so far away. If he gets caught– Well, _when_ he gets caught they will question him thoroughly. Considering how things went down between you two there’s no doubt he'll tell hunters everything, and the next thing you know they will come for you.”

Being an ex–hunter who left the organization meant Snake was on the top of their famous Red List, a list of names of people they considered their sworn enemies.

Snake let out a sigh. “And what is it to you, kid?”

Ocelot pressed his lips into a thin line. He cursed the blush that coloured his face. “I care about you, John. You saved my life, I'm forever in your debt.”

“You're not.” He shook his head. “It was your mother's– ”

Ocelot groaned. “My mother's dying wish to get me away from Volgin and the Union because he wanted her son to live, _blah blah blah_... I know the story, John. I was right there with you.”

Snake's frown deepened. As angry as he appeared, there was a glint of regret in his eye, a reaction to mentioning his former mentor.

“I'm not here to talk about my mother, John. I'm here to talk about you and me, and what it means to have someone like Miller do some dangerous shit that could get us all killed.”

He shot Snake a challenging look ready to argue with this stubborn man for the rest of the night. Interestingly enough Snake's gaze softened. He shook his head, muttering under his breath, “You’re so much like your mother sometimes.”

He reached into his jacket for a pack of cigarettes. With a cigarette in his mouth he patted his pockets for a lighter.

“Allow me,” Ocelot purred. His hand reached out, a small blue flame danced on the tip of his index finger. _I can show you how useful magic can be if you let me_ , his smile offered.

Snake wrinkled his nose at the smell of magic in the air. Every kind of magic had a distinctive smell that hunters were trained to recognize. It also depended on a person. Ocelot’s mother claimed his spells were like air in the morning on a winter day. Fresh but icy cold, so cold it almost caused pain.

Perhaps Snake didn’t like winter. Yet he didn't seem to care that once the flame disappeared Ocelot's hand traced the lapels of his leather jacket.

“Are you going to do something about Miller?” Ocelot insisted, his hand resting on Snake’s shoulder.

The shadow cat woke up and stared at its master with red eyes shining bright. Then it turned its attention to the ex–hunter. Snake exhaled a big puff of smoke, oblivious to the creature rubbing its shadowy body on his leg. No matter how much it tried, Snake couldn't see it.  

“I don't really have a choice, right, Adam?”

Ocelot's cat–like grin looked more pleased than ever.

 

* * *

 

During a three hour ride Snake didn’t say a word, occasionally grumbling something like “Hrrr..” or “Mhm…” when Ocelot gave him directions. He smoked one cigarette after another until the pack was empty. Ocelot gave up on trying to initiate a conversation soon after they left Seattle. He stared at the road ahead, petting the shadow cat curled into a ball on his lap.

Snake shot him a confused glare, the last cigarette hanging from his lips. That was when Ocelot remembered a _normal_ person like Snake couldn’t see small, weak familiars like his.

“Yes, the cat’s with me. I told you about it back in Russia, remember?” He asked, one eyebrow quirked. “I took it with me.”

Snake shot him another glance.  “The cat was with us on the plane?”

His voice suggested it was all brand new information for him. Ocelot let out a sigh.

“Yes, John. The cat’s _always_ by my side,” he said, patting the familiar’s back.

Snake grumbled something that sounded like, “Hrggg…” and that was the end of their talk.

Finding the place where Miller was hiding wasn’t easy. Fortunately Ocelot came prepared. He might have skipped some parts of his story, including casting a spell to track the man down. He never met Miller so it would be impossible without getting something that belonged to him. For that he could thank Eva. He just so happened to also forget to mention her to Snake. _The less John knows the better. No reason to upset him further._

It turned out Miller chose an abandoned building in downtown Vancouver. Snake climbed the fence and jumped on the other side without any trouble. Ocelot followed, albeit much less gracefully, nearly tearing his pants in the process. The shadow cat turned into a puff of smoke to materialise by Ocelot a moment later.

Ocelot looked at the building. Even when he concentrated he couldn’t feel anything. There was only the faintest trace of magic in the air. He could smell it because he knew what he was looking for. Miller covered his tracks well.

They walked around the building looking for a way inside. Every window on the ground floor was covered with planks of wood. The main entrance didn’t exist anymore, a wall of bricks in its place.

Annoyed, Snake grabbed one of the wooden planks covering a nearby window and pulled. Other than using magic, the last thing he should do right now, Ocelot didn’t have any other way to help him, so he observed as Snake uncovered the window. The familiar slipped in and urged him to get inside.

Once the opening was wide enough, Snake wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and waved at the window. “After you.”

The inside of the building was not only dirty but it also smelled. _Someone used it as a public restroom_. Ocelot covered his nose in disgust.

“Where to now?” Snake asked after he jumped inside.

Ocelot glanced at the shadow cat that was sniffing in the air. “At the top. Thankfully there’s only four floors.”

Snake nodded, and they began to climb the stairs.

_–down the alley on your hands and–_

Ocelot stopped mid step, glancing around in confusion. “You heard that?”

“Hm?” Snake frowned, tension visible on his face. “Heard what?”

The corridor was empty, the walls dirty, stairs creaking under their weight. Someone sprayed obscenities on one of the walls, the words bright red, standing out in the otherwise bleak and dingy place. Doors to other apartments were closed shut. His familiar claimed there was no one else in the building, the place long abandoned and waiting to be demolished. No one else except them and Miller hiding upstairs.

Yet Ocelot was sure he heard… _Something_. He looked up, trying to localise the source of whatever it was. The shadow cat ran past him, drawn to the source of magic like a moth to the flame.

_–m sure you're not protected–_

Hearing it again he gasped. His eyes returned to Snake who tensed even more. The ex–hunter knew the rules; if there was a medium with you, you better listen to them. And Ocelot was a damn good medium.

“It’s a… sound,” Ocelot explained, hesitant. “I can’t hear it clearly, it’s like a song stuck in your head, a tune you can’t quite recognize.”

“A song?” Snake grumbled. “Let’s go, we don’t have much time.”

He was right. Whatever Miller was doing it was increasing in force. Magic was seeping through the walls, carrying a unique smell that was completely out of place here. The air smelled vaguely of coconut. It was a pleasant smell, Ocelot would admit that much.

Upon reaching the top floor Snake inspected the door leading to the only apartment there. Ocelot’s familiar sat by the ex–hunter. The cat once again rubbed its whole body on Snake’s leg, demanding attention. Ocelot rolled his eyes.

The door looked just as dirty and neglected as everything else in this place. The doorknob was missing, a piece of wood nailed there to cover the hole. Snake grabbed a knife from a sheath he kept hidden under his jacket. At first glance it was a regular knife but the moment he unsheathed it fully to reveal a blade covered in runes, Ocelot felt a sting at the back of his head.

“Magekiller,” he muttered, taking a step back. One stab with that thing and he’d be unable to cast spells for a while. Of course Snake would have at least one. The shadow cat hissed, jumping away to hide behind its master. “I see you’re prepared, John.”

“Always,” Snake replied and without a moment of hesitation he stabbed the door with his knife.

Or at least he attempted to. The blade was stopped by an invisible force.

Three things happened at once. The blade emitted a sound like a low cry making Ocelot wince in pain. Snake cursed, his hand holding the knife trembled as he cut through an invisible barrier. Then the illusion shattered revealing countless markings on the door as well as on the whole wall from the ceiling to the floor.

Ocelot stared, mouth agape, eyes scanning the signs. Some of them glistened with what was blood without a doubt. Cold dread seized his heart upon realising he could read only some of them. That was enough to understand the markings were meant to keep inside whoever or whatever was in that apartment.

_No, Miller can’t be that stupid to…_

His thoughts were interrupted when the mysterious tune appeared again.

_–hunt you to the ground they will–_

_–mannequins with kill appeal–_

With the barrier shattered, the song was clear and strong. Sounds were now accompanied by images that appeared in Ocelot’s head, overwhelming him for a moment.

He was driving a car through the night. He was exhausted, his grip on the steering wheel so strong his knuckles were white. He turned up the volume.

_–come out of the garden, baby–_

_–you'll catch your death in the fog–_

The song blaring from the speakers wasn’t enough to keep him awake. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, just for one second.  

_–young girl, they call them–_

He jolted awake, a flash of white blinding him.

Ocelot took a deep breath. _There’s a spirit nearby_.

He understood what Miller attempted to do and cursed in his thoughts.

“Kick it open, the barrier’s gone!” he prompted, gesturing at the door.

Snake didn’t have to be told twice. The door gave in and the way to Miller’s hideout stood open. Ocelot pushed Snake away and was the first one to step inside, nearly tripping over his familiar. The shadow cat ran inside but stopped abruptly in front of a line on the ground. Then it hissed, its shadowy form growing in size in a similar way a cat’s fur stands up when feeling threatened.

Ocelot blinked, eyes adjusting to the darkness in the room. The only source of light were candles placed in each corner. His heart beating fast, he took in the sight in front of him. A shiver ran down his spine. His senses were attacked from every side; there was the smell of Miller’s magic, still concealed but significantly stronger here. The song and images from the spirit lingering in this room. And then there was a pressure from an unknown source, as if there was something lurking in the darkness.

There were two large circles drawn on the ground. The first one stopped the shadow cat. It seemed to be a mixture of ash, salt and something what Ocelot couldn’t quite define. Summoning was never his area of expertise. The second circle was closer to the centre of the room and surrounded the man himself, Kazuhira Miller.

Although Ocelot never met the guy before, he’d heard enough to know it was him. He was wearing a bottle green shirt, half unbuttoned, and dark jeans, his feet bare. He had a pair of aviators in the pocket on his chest. The right sleeve was cut, revealing a stump. His blond hair was brushed back.

Then Ocelot looked at the floor to see what his brain refused to register. There was a dead man right in the middle of the second circle. Miller kneeled next to him, drawing markings on the corpse’s chest. The body was damaged, the man’s left arm missing from the elbow down, half of his face disfigured. The state of the corpse suggested Miller got it from a morgue. The guy couldn’t be dead for too long if his spirit still hadn’t fully left.

Miller’s blue eyes were on Ocelot for a moment before moving to Snake. His brows knit.

“Shut the fucking door, Snake!” he barked. His voice was strained.

Snake did as he was told, closing the door shut. It was the one and only time he listened to Miller that night.

Ocelot felt the spirit’s last thought invading his mind.

_–come out of the garden, baby–_

_–you'll catch your death in the fog–_

He saw flashes of images, could feel the exhaustion that man felt in his last moments. Caught by surprise, he couldn’t fight it. Once the connection formed it was difficult to let it go.

_–young girl, they call them–_

He swallowed hard, trying to piece everything together. The spirit was weak, ready to leave any minute.

_–young girl, they call them the Diamond Dogs–_

“David Bowie!” Ocelot exclaimed. Other men looked at him in confusion. He stared at Miller, words spilling from his mouth. “He was listening to Bowie when he died. Diamond Dogs, that’s how the song’s called? He died in a…” he stopped to concentrate, images appearing in his head too quickly for him to fully see everything. “A car accident. He was driving late at night. Tired after a long shift, fell asleep behind the wheel.”

“Snake, you got yourself a medium, I see,” Miller twisted his lips. He continued, his voice mocking. “A young doctor killed in a car crash. Oh, how very tragic. Who cares!” he scoffed. “Now that it’s all sorted out, see yourself out. You’ve done enough damage already.”

“Kaz, come here right now,” Snake growled. He held the knife low, his grip firm.

“I’m done listening to you.”

Whatever there was between these two, it was gone judging from their voices and glares full of resentment.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing…” Snake began. The mage didn’t want to listen.

“You’re right, you don't know shit, Snake!” Miller spat, brows furrowed. “You disappeared, isolated yourself from everything and everyone. You have no idea what's going on right now! Hunters are after every mage they can find. They are after _me_ and I need protection.”

“You think summoning a demon will help you?” Snake's voice was gruff.

Ocelot didn't move, observing the situation with his eyes narrowed. The song disappeared completely, the spirit finally gone. He could feel the shadow cat trembling behind him. Whatever the hell Miller wanted to summon wasn't good if it managed to make a familiar so afraid.

He was all for kicking Miller's ass; he would cheer any other time Snake decided to do that. Now, however, Miller was more distracted with every passing second, focused on Snake instead on the ritual.

“I knew I couldn't count on you, so what other options do I have? Turn myself in?” Miller scoffed. “I don't know what do you want from me but just this once listen to me and stay out of this.”

A quick glance at the ceiling confirmed Ocelot's worst fear. A crack appeared there, barely visible in the darkness of the room. Tiny black drops began forming along it. John didn't see it, while Miller was certain he had everything under control.

Magic had its taboos. _What is dead will stay that way_ , Ocelot’s mother told him after he kept talking about his father’s ghost appearing everywhere he went. They both knew where his body was, so if the spirit stayed behind, it shouldn’t be so hard to bring him back. _Never speak of it again, Adamska_. _Necromancy is a foul thing. If your magic touches the dead you will rot._

He believed her words when he saw necromancers employed by the Union. The stench of their rotting bodies couldn’t be masked with anything. Although there weren’t any official rules of magic, no sane person would ever dare to attempt necromancy.

And then there were summoners like Miller. They were rare not because that branch of magic required tremendous skill. Nobody knew what they could bring from other realities. There were tales from the past about powerful summoners commanding armies of demons. Rumour had it there was only one way to summon a demon. A spirit needs a vessel, so to bring a demon into this reality meant giving it a body to inhabit.

Summoners were despised by other mages and relentlessly pursued by hunters. How Miller managed to stay alive for so long was a mystery Ocelot wasn’t much interested in solving. Why would he even think of summoning a demon was beyond Ocelot’s understanding.

_All magic has a price. Miller should know_ , he thought, glancing at what was left of Miller’s right arm. _He can’t possibly think he’s strong enough to do this. He will be torn into shreds._

A black drop fell down on Miller’s cheek. He gasped and froze in place, his eyes going wide. Snake huffed in irritation and took a step forward, paying no attention to the mage’s alarmed stare. Ocelot couldn’t take his eyes off the crack on the ceiling now dripping big black drops on Miller and the corpse. Something was coming through it.

“I’ll ask you for the last time. Stop. This.” Snake took another step.

“Don’t come any closer,” Miller’s voice was barely a whisper. “John. Don’t you dare to move.”

Snake didn’t listen. He moved forward, straining like something was holding him back. Gripping the knife in front of him he stepped over the first circle, breaking the summoner’s ring.

Ocelot felt a hot gust of wind coming from the centre of the room. His familiar yelped in panic, running to the exit. It disappeared in a puff of smoke and escaped through the crack under the door.

Black ooze dripped down, covering the corpse and half of Miller’s face. It glistened in a way no known substance would. The whole building shook, dust falling from the ceiling.

“John, _please_ ,” Miller pleaded. Blood poured from his nose, the first sign the ritual was taking its toll on him. “Don’t come any closer.”

Snake pushed forward, both hands holding the Magekiller like a sword ready to pierce the mage’s heart. He stopped just before the next line of markings, unable to proceed. Black ooze was pouring down, not a single drop falling outside the inner circle. Ocelot watched, transfixed, as the substance covered the corpse that seemed to absorb it all like a sponge.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to use Miller to lure Snake out. _Too late now_ , he thought just as Snake made one more step, his foot landing on the markings of the inner circle.

“John!” Miller screamed.

In an instant Ocelot felt himself being lifted in the air and thrown like a doll. His back hit a wall, he fell down on the floor with a groan of pain. He lifted his head to see Snake rolling on the ground in pain. Miller fainted, his body lying lifelessly right next to the corpse covered by a thick layer of the black  substance.

Ocelot gasped for air. It was so hot he felt like his body caught on fire. The scent of any magic was completely gone, leaving only a strong smell of ash. He clawed at his throat, desperate to breathe but something was sucking all the air from the room.

Just when he couldn’t bear it anymore, his lungs burning, it all suddenly stopped.

Ocelot gasped, taking a deep breath. His head was pounding, clothes drenched in sweat. The shadow cat came back, its tiny paws kneading his chest. That meant that whatever that was, it was over. Hopefully.

_Fucking. Summoners._

He turned his head to the side to assess the damage.

Snake was on the ground, his chest rising and falling as he was breathing heavily. The corpse was unrecognizable under the black substance that formed a solid around him like a coffin. Miller was trembling, curled on the floor. There was no sign of the black ooze on him. His nose was still bleeding profusely, skin morbidly pale and glistening with sweat.

Snake sat up, groaning. He reached for his knife, gripping it tightly. He got up, his legs shaking, and took heavy steps towards Miller.

Snake hesitated, Ocelot noted, but only for a moment, before yanking Miller up by his hair to expose his neck. Too weak to fight, the mage cried out in pain.

“You crossed the line, Kaz.” Snake’s voice was rough, his breathing erratic as he pulled Miller to his chest to hold him in an iron grip. “You did it before and you will do it again. I thought you understood your mistake then, but you never…” He closed his eyes for a second, paying no attention to Miller’s weak pleas. He exhaled. “You’ll never learn, Kaz.”

Ocelot held his breath. _Is this what you do with those who wrong you, John?_ He bit his lower lip, his face growing hot.

Then the layer of black on the corpse cracked open, a red arm with claws shooting up in the air.

The shadow cat screeched, clawing at Ocelot’s chest, its voice drilling into his mind and urging him to _Run, run, RUN!_ There was another gust of hot air when the entire black substance crumbled into pieces and turned to ash. A tall, muscular figure stood up. Miller’s ritual appeared to be a success.

The demon grabbed Snake’s arm holding the knife and lifted him up in the air without much effort. Snake stared at the demon’s face, his eye wide with fear. Ocelot sat up, trembling. He could have sworn the dead guy was lean and had short hair, yet now he looked at a muscular back of a man with longer hair.

Hair strangely similar to Snake’s.

With a growl, the demon squeezed Snake’s arm so hard the ex–hunter groaned in pain and let go of the knife. He tried to kick but the demon tossed him away like an unwanted toy. Snake landed on the floor with a loud _thud_.

Then the demon turned and looked straight at Ocelot who felt blood freeze in his veins, entirely paralysed by a raw, animalistic fear. His magic was dulled, crushed by the demon’s powers, and the emptiness inside him terrified him in a way he couldn’t comprehend. It was like someone tore him open and cut out a piece of him.

The ritual was a success but Snake’s interference did odd things to the dead man. His body changed, once rather slim now it was muscular like Snake’s but covered with scars. The man’s left arm was made anew, a bright red arm with long claws.

The worst was the demon’s face. It was just like Snake’s, bones remodelled to resemble him. It was just like Snake but at the same time it was not, skin littered with scars. His left eye had the exact shade of blue like John’s; the right one shone red, a long horn protruding from the side of his forehead.

When the demon stepped towards him, Ocelot was sure he was going to die. The shadow cat hissed, growing twice in size. Ocelot could feel it shaking with fear.

Ocelot watched the demon approach with morbid fascination. It was wrong how much his form resembled Snake’s. The red arm reached for him. The shadow cat howled. Ocelot couldn’t look away from the demon’s face.

His mother would call it a teenage crush; deep down Ocelot knew it was more than that. Since the day they met, he hoped that if he were to die, it would be Snake who kills him.

“Stop!”

Demon’s claws stopped centimetres before Ocelot’s neck. He looked back at Miller, the expression on his scarred face changing.

“I  co– command you to stop,” Miller stammered. He was barely able to sit straight. He raised his arm, winced, pointed at the demon. He took a breath. “I am the one who summoned you and you will obey me.”

Just like that the demon left Ocelot shaking on the floor and walked to Miller. The mage swore, taking in the sight of the demon and his uncanny resemblance to the man who was about to kill him moments ago. He twitched nervously when the demon kneeled down, bowing his head in submission.

_He did it_. Ocelot wanted to laugh. _The bastard actually did it._

Miller cupped the demon’s face. “You even have his beard,” he muttered in disbelief. “Oh, fuck me. Even his beard.”

Miller laughed though it sounded more like he was crying. He seemed to be in shock. He touched the demon’s face, poked his cheeks, then brushed hair from his face, not comprehending what he was doing. The demon didn’t react.

“Is it because Snake was in the summoning ring?” Ocelot asked. He never witnessed a summoning ritual, not to mention one that went so horribly wrong.

 “I have no idea,” Miller admitted and shrugged. “The summoning ring must be empty. No one’s supposed to just… walk in.”

“You have to kill it, Kaz.”

Ocelot blinked when Snake spoke. The ex–hunter sat on the floor, massaging his forearm.

“Shut up,” Miller barked. He looked like he was about to faint any second though had enough energy left to be angry at Snake. “You were about to kill me. With a Magekiller, no less! You think I’ll just let that slide, John?”

“You’re going to order your new pet to kill me now?”

Snake glanced at the knife, too far from his reach, then at Ocelot. The mage shook his head. He wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole.

Miller pursed his lips. “That would be a waste. You could be useful, and you know I hate wasting useful resources. You _owe me_.”

“What about this thing?” Snake nodded at the demon. “I can help you kill it.”

“Will you stop with all that killing? Can’t you put your hatred for magic aside just for one moment?”

“It has my face,” Snake spat with disgust.

“ _He_ looks a lot like you, yes, but who cares. You shouldn’t have stepped into the summoning rings, John. You’re the one to blame for this.”

“So what, you’re just going to keep a demon by your side?”

Miller gave him a smile. In a different situation it would be considered charming; now it looked like the summoner was insane.

“That was my original plan. At least now I have someone I can count on to protect me from hunters.”

Ocelot brushed his hand through the familiar’s fur. It was cold and slightly damp, like mist. He watched the demon warily, waiting for it to suddenly snap and butcher them all. The demon kneeled by Miller, still like a statue. He lost all interest in everyone else in the room expect Miller, and awaited his master’s command.

Ocelot let out a sigh. If he had known Miller was that crazy, he would have stayed the hell away from him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: no clothes because I can't design anything interesting  
> Ocelot is quite young in this story, he was 17 when he first met Snake


End file.
